


Past Hope

by Danudane



Category: The Order: 1886
Genre: Angst, Gen, sad fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danudane/pseuds/Danudane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(And old fic I had on tumblr and forgot to upload here.)<br/>Prompt: “Isi and Marquis finding Grayson alive and Sebastien’s body at the wreckage of the Agamemnon”</p>
    </blockquote>





	Past Hope

**Author's Note:**

> (And old fic I had on tumblr and forgot to upload here.)  
> Prompt: “Isi and Marquis finding Grayson alive and Sebastien’s body at the wreckage of the Agamemnon”

“Sebastien.” Gray’s call was both cautionary and urgent. He and the older knight had surrounded one of the last remaining rebels on board.  
Against Grayson’s better judgement and instinct he let Sebastien speak to the rebel, in an attempt to talk the young man out of detonating the remaining bomb.  
The last thing he remembered was a thunderous explosion and a blinding flash of white. The force of the blast sent him flying back into the room behind him and rendered him unconscious before he even hit the floor.

“Igraine calling Perceval…”  
“Come in Perceval.”  
“Galahad, acknowledge.”  
“Gray, Sebastien, come in…”  
Despite the frantic calls of Isi over the comm, it was a flood of pain and heat that pulled him all too roughly from the darkness. A dry gasp in agony escaped him as his senses were overloaded but painfully aware of every injury he had received. Despite his inability to think past the notion that he must have broken all the bones in his body, he managed to reach for his vial of Black water, which had miraculously remained around his neck.

His shallow breathing did not change in rhythm even after he drank the bitter liquid, for even as it went to work every movement sent a white hot lance of fire through his already battered form.

Fire. Explosion. Crash. Sebastien. The bomb went off in front of them. Flames. Heat. Sebastien. Where was the older knight? Coherent thoughts slowly returned to him as he did his best to ignore the pain he was still in. He forced himself up, each step threatening to have him topple over again.

Slowly and unsteadily, he made his way down what used to be a hallway. The wreck and damage done was immeasurable, but all he cared about was finding Sebastien and getting clear of the flames.

He heard people screaming and calling out. For the man being consumed by fire further down the way, they were the last sounds he would make.  
There was nothing Gray could do to help, and he knew it. It only made him feel more helpless as he stumbled along, the bile rising in his throat as he smelt burning human flesh.

“Gray.” Isi’s voice came through again. “For God’s sake, respond.” Her voice wavered, more desperate now than before.

“Isi. I’m here.” His response was strained, and frustration set in when he got no answer. “Isi, can you hear me?” It was clear his communicator had taken damage in the fall, and was not relaying his reply.  
Removing it, he tossed the thing to the ground with a curse, and continued on.

As Grayson rounded a corner, he saw a man in a long dark coat, lying motionless among the twisted metal of the wreckage. His immediate thought was Sebastien, but as he kneeled beside the man’s body and turned it over, there was a simultaneous sense of relief and dread. Not Sebastien. He dropped his head for a moment, still attempting to catch his breath for a moment before standing back up. Where was the other knight?

His sense of urgency only increased. The remaining metal was still settling in some areas, and becoming unstable in other. Exposed to the heat of the flames, the iron and steel carcass of the Agamemnon was still falling apart around him.

Gray ducked under some fallen beams, doing his best to avoid the burning scraps of material that fell around him.  
With his left arm still wrapped around his middle, he heard another relay over a communicator. It lied, discarded and by some debris just ahead of him. 

“Lucan, Sagramor, Elyan. We’ve lost contact with Perceval and Galahad.” Isabeau’s voice came through relatively clear, determined to find the two missing members of her group.

Gray was only thankful she was still looking for them, even if he had not seen any help yet. He kneeled down to take the communicator, suddenly finding it harder to speak than before.

“I need any able-bodied Knight in the vicinity of the Crystal Palace to respond.” Isabeau barked out another order before Gray could even find the words to reply.

“Isi…” He was nearly breathless, swallowing hard against the boiling air.

“M’lady…No one is believed to have survived the crash…” Another Knight came in over the communicator, nearly drowning out Galahad’s response.

“It’s me..” He tried, praying with everything he had that this communicator was still working both ways.

“Gray?” Her voice changed, a spark of hope that they’d still find Galahad alive.

It was another falling piece of wreckage that pulled his attention away from even a chance at rescue. A plank of wood had given way, revealing Sebastien, the older Knight’s body limp amongst the charred ruins of the airship.

“No…” He protested, but it came out as little more than a strained whisper.

“Gray! Respond! Where the hell are you?” Isabeau’s tone was frantic once more.

He ignored her, using his remaining strength in an attempt to get to his downed mentor.

“Everyone! Sir Galahad is alive! Find him!” She called out with an authority that surely no one would question.

No matter the orders, Gray was still on his own as he struggled to pull the metal supports that acted as a last barrier between him and Sebastien.

It took three arduous tries but eventually the iron and wood came loose, clearing a path to the elder Knight.

Gray stared down at Sebastien, knowing he had made it too late before even getting close enough to touch him. The fall had been too much, done too much damage to the older man’s body.

Grief and anger pooled within him, frustration and a flood of other emotions came at him all at once. His oldest friend lied lifeless in front of him, and Gray mostly blamed himself. If only he had taken the shot, things might have-

Raw emotion finally escaped him in a distraught cry, he raised his fists in question to whatever higher power had allowed this to happen. It was not rational thinking, Grayson knew it, but nothing made sense at the moment.

He bowed forward, choking back sobs as his mind tried to process the loss. Sebastien had been his guide, his source of strength, his mentor, his brother, his friend…And now he was gone.

Gray leaned forward and with a final gentleness, held Sebastien’s leather wrapped forearm in his hands.  
Silently he begged the other Knight to just wake up. “…Please..” Gray forced out the word, even as his throat burned. The heat and smoke were finally taking their toll on him and he slumped forward before collapsing beside Sebastien, his head coming to rest on the man’s outstretched arm.

He continued to cough, each one weaker than the last as he contemplated letting the wreckage take him as well.  
Gray’s dark thoughts left him soon after, knowing if anyone was going to make sense of Mallory’s death and take revenge for it, it would have to be him. The older man would not have wanted Grayson to give up so easily.

His attempt to get back up was unsuccessful, his lungs protesting further with each breath. Covering his mouth and nose only helped a little, and Gray was beginning to think the other knights might never find him in time.

Grayson felt consciousness start to leave him and his senses dull when finally the calls of other knights pierced the smoky air around him.

“Galahad! Ser Perceval!” He heard their voices call out in different directions, even as his vision began to darken.

The fact that Sebastien would never again answer their call only made his heart feel heavier.

“H-here.” He tried, though it came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.  
With one last push he propped himself up just enough to call out again, this time the other knights hearing him.

Isabeau and Lafayette lead the group, rushing to their downed comrades. She kneeled beside Gray, resting a hand on his shoulders as she looked him over. Dark smudges of soot were scattered across her face, and she pulled the scarf down and away from her mouth, long enough to ask what she needed.

“Gray, can you walk?” Her expression still showed plenty of worry, but there was overwhelming relief as well, until she realized what else had happened.

“Monsieur…” Lafayette paled when he shook the older knight and got no response.

“He’s gone…” Grayson closed his eyes, tears threatening to fall as he finally admitted it out loud.

Lafayette sat there a moment longer, whispering some prayer in French before carefully lifting Perceval’s body off the ground. They still needed to get out and away from the wreckage.

Isabeau had wanted to say something, anything, but could not imagine any of her words bringing Gray comfort. Instead she took a moment to rip a piece of her own scarf turned mask off and wrap it around Galahad’s lower face. He’d clearly breathed in enough smoke already. She then hauled him up, the movement aggravating his still healing ribs.

He wheezed and groaned, doubling over even as Isabeau attempted to keep him standing.

“Come on, Gray…” She urged him on with an order rather than a plea. The area was still on fire and would continue to be so until there was nothing left to burn.

“I should be the one to carry him…” Gray coughed again, righting himself enough to move with Isi as they made their way out.

“You are hardly standing on your own, Lafayette has him.” Isi assured Grayson, her tone finally softening. She heard the tightening of leather as Gray’s free hand balled into a fist but she said nothing.

Their escape dragged on, as they wound their way through the maze of wreckage. Grayson had no doubt hell looked quite similar, as they passed by more human remains- unlucky East India company guards most likely. The charred bodies were twisted and blackened, grim reminders of what could have happened to any of them. Their masks did little to hide the stench, and they looked away, though it was impossible to ignore the carnage.  
They had gotten all the passengers of status off the airship, but there had still been casualties- the greatest being one of their own.

What felt like hours passed, and finally they were out of harm’s way. Isabeau frowned as she looked up to Gray, who’s eyes were glazed over and filled with sadness.  
She gingerly reached up and undid the makeshift mask, letting the soft red cloth fall away before she used a clean section of it to wipe some of the soot off his face.

“Isi, don’t.” Gray could not even bring himself to meet her gaze, it stayed forward, but not focused on any one thing.

“Gray…” She paused, letting out a sad sigh.

“Please.” He looked away, and brought his gloved hand up to wipe away the tears still beading in the corners of his eyes. He was a coward, no longer able to look at the body of Sebastien. It hurt too much to do so.

“There was nothing you could have done-“ She tried to make him believe it, but doubted anything could convince him at this point.

“Isabeau.” His tone sharpened into a warning, knowing he had to face the truth. He very well could have stopped this if he had only…

Lafayette allowed two other knights to help him carry Sebastien’s body as respectfully as they could to the nearest carriage.

Preparations would need to be made, and a ceremony be held in Ser Perceval’s passing.

He took a moment to wipe his freely shed tears in an attempt to regain some composure. It was only now that the marquis returned to what was left of their tiny group.

“Someone should inform Nikola.” Lafayette shook his head before offering to do so, his voice both quiet and solemn.  
“You should try to get some rest, monsieur.” He looked to Galahad, though the both of them knew such a thing was unlikely to happen.

It took Isabeau’s repeated coaxing to get Grayson into another waiting carriage, and she was almost relieved to see him collapse against the plush bench seating. She could not imagine how Gray was feeling at this point, aside from the look in his eyes earlier.  
Sebastien’s death had hit her hard, but her focus had been getting Gray out of there alive. The whole situation still seemed unreal, and she dreaded the thought of having the whole ride back to their headquarters to think it over. Surely her father would see their mission a resounding failure, even if they had rescued Lord Hastings and the guests of the Agamemnon.

In the meantime, she concentrated on the knight beside her, somewhat surprised when he laid his head in her lap. His gaze was still far away, staring blankly at the opposite wall of the carriage.  
Still, it made Isi feel better that he had initiated some contact, and so she tried again to soothe him.  
She ran her fingers slowly through his hair, brushing back any loose strands, and repeated the action until it started to work.

Gray found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open, his battered body giving way to sleep even if he did not think he deserved it. Within another few minutes, his labored breathing eased and slowed, and he fell into unconsciousness.

“I’m so sorry.” Isi finally whispered to him, now that he could not protest it.  
Tears rolled down her own cheeks now, wiping them only so that they did not fall on the knight resting against her.


End file.
